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BUGS AND WINGS 
AND OTHER THINGS 




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9 












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BUGS AND WINGS 
AND OTHER THINGS 


BY 

ANNIE W. FRANCHOT 

M 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
JESSIE WILLCOX SMITH 

AND 

HARRISON CADY 



NEW YORK 

E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 

68 1 FIFTH AVENUE 






Copyright, 1918 
BY 

E. P. DUTTON & CO. 




etc 

© ci.‘A 5 06794 


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Co 

MARGARET 

WHO LOVES ALL LITTLE LIVING THINGS 




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CONTENTS 




The Insects’ Symphony 


PAGE 

I 


The Locust’s Song 


6i 


Aristocratic Worms 


79 



vii 




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4 










































































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THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


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Bugs and Wings and 
Other Things 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 

“All around me the insects' symphony rises and falls.” 

H. Fabre. 

Chapter I 

M ARGARET’S mother was having tea 
with some friends in the garden, and 
Margaret — or Myee as everyone 
called her — heard her mother say, “The sun is 
a very ball of gold to-night. ” 

Myee had been tucked away in her little bed 
for the night and should have been asleep, but the 
picture of the ball of gold made her wide awake, 
and she decided she would see if she could find 

it; so out of bed she jumped, pulled on her little 
3 


4 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

blue wrapper and her bed-slippers, and away she 
ran down the stairs, through the back garden 
gate, out beyond the tall hedge to the near-by 
woods, where, through the trees, she saw the 
great round sun going down — truly it did look 
like a ball of gold. Myee ran through the woods 
to the west as fast as she could go; in bed- 
slippers that would come off and wrapper that 
would drag and get under her flying feet. She 
thought if she ran fast enough she might catch 
the great golden ball before it went quite down 
back of the hill. As she ran she tripped and fell 
many times, for she kept her eyes on the ball, and 
not on her feet. The moss, however, was soft, 
and the falls didn’t hurt, and she jumped up only 
to run the faster. Just as she thought one more 
good run would bring her to the edge of the world, 
where the sun was slipping down so fast, she fell 
headlong over a fallen tree, and her nose was 
poked down so hard in the moss and twigs, and 
her curls were so tangled in the sticks and stones, 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


5 


that it took some time to get untangled. When 
she stood up again and looked to the west, be- 
hold the great ball had rolled completely out of 
sight over the hill. 

Margaret sank down upon the trunk of the 
tree over which she had tumbled, and would have 
cried out her troubles, but she couldn’t find her 
pocket handkerchief ; and how could anyone cry 
without a pocket handkerchief, no matter how 
small and wudgy it might be! So Myee sat 
still and listened to the sounds about her; 
she loved the woods and all the little crea- 
tures who lived there, and she did not feel 
lonely 

When she heard the familiar sound of a cricket 
near by, she turned in delight to see sitting on a 
spreading mandrake leaf, two crickets — a father 
and mother cricket. The father cricket was 
fiddling to his wife with his wings raised and 
rubbing together. His wife stood very near and 
moved her head until it almost touched the wings, 


6 


BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 


as if she thought the music was so delightful she 
feared to lose a single note of what, to her, was 
the sweetest song in the world — everyone to 
their own taste, you know. 

The song Mr. Cricket sang was something like 
this, 

CRICKET SONG 

We are a family of high degree ; 

In France we are known as Cri-cri, 

Crickety, Crickety, Crickety, Cri, 

Crickety, Crickety, Cri. 



Our songs we sing by warm hearth fires, 
Or in cool woods, or quaggy mires, 

Crickety, Crickety, Crickety, Cri, 
Crickety, Crickety, Cri. 


Several little boy crickets came out from their 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


7 


burrows under the ground and joined in the 
chorus of the song, 

Crickety, Crickety, Crickety, Cri, Cri, Cri, Cri. 



CRICKETS SINGING 

Margaret thought it was a very happy family. 
Many insects of the woods had gathered to hear 
the music. Madam Cricket said to her husband, 
“My dear Crick, I think it best to rest now for a 
time, but what do you say to our giving a concert 
for our friends to-night, under the old willow 


8 


BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 


tree by the brook ? The moon will shine overhead 
and we can ask Mrs. Firefly to come with her 



large family to furnish the lights for the musi- 
cians. I will ask the Queen Bee of the Honey 
Bees to send some honey by her workers for our 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


9 


supper. Our cousins, the Locusts and Katy- 
dids, will help us with the music. ,, 

“Well said, my dear Cri Cri,” said the father 
cricket, “but how will we let our friends know?” 

“Oh, let me take the invitations,” said Myee, 
who had kept still much longer than she was 
accustomed to do. 

Mr. and Mrs. Cricket, and all the little Crickets, 
looked up at her delightedly, but Mrs. Cricket 
said, “How can such a big little girl go into the 
houses of the woods?” 

Myee’s face fell, and all the little Crickets 
looked very sad. Just then a moonbeam shone 
through the trees, and down its bright slanting 
length came a beautiful little fairy, who lighted 
on a fern at Myee’s feet and said, “What is the 
trouble, why are you all so sad?” And when 
Myee told her how hard it was to be so big when 
all her friends were small, the fairy said, “Would 
you really like to be a wee little girl for one 
night, so that you may enter the homes of the 


10 


BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 


wood-people ?” Myee clapped her hands with 
joy, and said, “ Please, please dear Fairy, make 
me as small as you are, so that I may go into all 
the places that my friends of the woods can go. ” 

The fairy clapped her tiny hands; the sound 
was like a sweet strain of music. No one seemed 
at all surprised when Myee became a dear little 
fat fairy, with long golden curls and wings to 
match her curls, with spots on them the color of 
her blue eyes. Myee’s mother and father had 
told her all about fairies, and so she was not at 
all surprised to be made a fairy so quickly. 

“I feel so light I could dance all night,” she 
said. 

“Now you may try your wings, Fairy Myee, 
for you have far to go if you take the invitations 
for Mrs. Cricket's concert to all of her friends, 
for they are many.” 

“Here is a list of names of the people you are 
to ask to the concert,” said Madam Cricket, 
bringing to Myee a piece of the bark from a white 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


II 


birch-tree all carefully rolled and tied with a 
tendril from a wild grapevine. After a few 
directions, Myee tucked the list carefully away 
under her wings. “Now, can I really fly ?” she 
said to the fairy. “ Mother never told me so, but 
I always believed if I were not so big I could fly, 
for when I have chased the birds and butterflies 
in the garden I have almost felt my wings. ” 

“ One — two — three, 

Try your wings and see, ” 

said the fairy. 


Chapter II 


IV T OW-AWAY my dear Myee,” said 
Madam Cricket. “Your first call 
is at the home of Madam Mason 
Spider, who lives under the ground near the 
sand banks. You will see a round door in 
the ground, tap very lightly, and say that you 
were sent by me, and the door will fly open. 
Don’t forget the time and place: to-night at 
nine o’clock under the old willow tree by the 
brook. ” Madam Cricket hurried away to make 
her family ready for the evening. 

Margaret lifted her wings, and away she flew. 
The fairy watched her until she felt sure that the 
wings were right, and then she stepped on the 
moonbeam and flew lightly over the tree-tops 
and away. 


12 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


13 



SHE SPINS A WEB NEAR BY AND CATCHES MANY A STRUTTING BUG OR FLY 


14 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

Margaret wanted to light on every wild flower 
in the woods, but she knew that she must attend 
to her duty, so she went first to the spring to call 
on Madam Mason Spider. Here she found the 
trapdoor slightly lifted, or I doubt if she could 
have found the place. Madam Spider had heard 
the flutter of wings, and came to her door to see 
who was passing. She was a curious old spider 
lady, you see; she wanted to know what was 
going on in her world. 

She greeted Myee, and seemed to know at once 
who she was, for she asked her into her parlor. 
Myee said she could not stay long, as she had 
many calls to make before nine o’clock, but 
Madam Spider took her in to show her the 
beautiful parlor whose walls were of the finest 
woven silk of her own weaving. No artist has 
ever made more exquisite tapestries. No wonder 
the old spider lady never goes out by day when 
she has such a safe and beautiful place in which 
to live. 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


15 


Her entrance door is a very clever arrange- 
ment. She certainly doesn’t care for much fresh 
air, for her door is about the size of a penny and 
so made that it closes itself. The door is very 
thick, made of fine earth which is wet and worked 
into shape with fine silk to make it elastic, then 
it is hung in place by hinges of elastic silk. It is 
so arranged that the door fits tightly into the 
opening of the house, and when opened closes 
immediately as if on a spring. The socket into 
which the door fits is all bound with silk like that 
on the hinges. 

Madam Spider protects her hiding place, or 
home, well. She glues bits of moss and sticks 
over the door, which makes it almost impossible 
to be detected. 

At sunset this rich old spider lady goes out 
of her beautiful tapestried parlor to seek her 
dinner. She spins a web near by and catches 
many a strutting bug or fly. If she chances to 
see a nice fat locust or beetle near she picks him 


1 6 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

up and carries him away to her home to fill her 
larder. 

Myee was rather glad when her message was 
delivered and she was safely out in the open air 
again. 

Away she flew to the home of the Katydids. 
This visit in the trees she quite enjoyed, for the 
Katydids are such jolly people and they wear 
such pretty bright green clothes. Fairy Myee 
sat on a twig of an oak tree and told Mrs. Katy- 
did and her daughter of the concert and of all 
the people who were coming. Just as she was 
flying away she turned to make sure that she had 
done her duty, and asked Mrs. Katydid if she 
had understood she was invited to sing, and the 
reply came very clear, “ Katydid, Katydid,” 
and then the daughter mischievously called 
back, “No, Katydidn’t, Katydidn’t,” but Fairy 
Myee saw the twinkle in Katydid’s eye, and she 
laughed and went on her way. 

The next family to be visited were the Ants. 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


17 


Myee remembered a verse her mother had read 
to her from the Bible, “Go to the ant thou 
sluggard and learn his ways”; and Myee, not 
knowing what a sluggard was, wondered if she 



were one, for surely she was going to the Ant, 
and she would keep her eyes open to learn what 
his ways were. 

As she neared the sand bank she saw a queer 
little figure sitting on a stone with his head in his 
hands and his elbows resting on his knees. He 


1 8 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

was so interested in watching the Ants before 
him that he did not see Myee until she fluttered 
down on a leaf beside him; then he looked up 
and smiled a crooked smile at her as she said, 
“Do you mind telling me who you are, I think 
that I have seen you before ?” 

“You must know me,” said the little man in a 
cracked little voice, “I’m the crooked man who 
walked a crooked mile and found a crooked six- 
pence upon a crooked stile. ” “Oh! yes, indeed 
I remember. I always did want to know what 
you did with that crooked sixpence,” said Myee. 
The little man smiled crookedly from his crooked 
face, then looked very sad and said, “I will tell 
you, curious little Fairy: I took it to a shop to buy 
a wooden leg to see if it would straighten my 
crooked body, but you see it was a crooked six- 
pence and it bought only a crooked leg, so I’m no 
better off than before. ” “ Poor crooked man, ” 

said Myee, but the little man looked at her and 
said, “You need not pity me, little Fairy, for I 



“Do You Mind Tedding Me: Who You Are?” 





















































































. 






THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


19 


have eyes to see all the wonderful and beautiful 
things of the earth, and I have ears to hear the 



CROOKED LITTLE MAN 


music of the world and a heart to love all that is 
good and beautiful, so what matters a few crooks 
in my legs and back? This is a favorite place 
with me. I like to sit here and watch the world 


20 


BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 


of Ants. I can learn the whole business of life 
from them. ,, “Oh, you are the Sluggard then, 
I thought I must be,” said Myee. 

The Crooked Man laughed his crooked laugh 
and said, “Well, we are all sluggards when it 
comes to the Ant. I have been watching a battle 
going on here. If it were bright sunlight in- 
stead of moonlight, you would see much better, 
but if you watch carefully you will see an army 
of Ants in a long line. They pull and tug at the 
enemy with great force, and then if not successful 
they stand on their backs and throw a poisonous 
acid from their stomachs. When several thou- 
sands of Ants in a battle shoot this acid, which is 
deadly, at the enemy, it makes you think the 
fighting armies in Europe must have gone to the 
Ants to learn their ways. The Ants are very 
brave soldiers. %They have no king or command- 
ing officer, but they work together like well- 
trained regiments of soldiers. They have no 
guns or swords, but they have their own weapons 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


21 


— their nippers with which they can bite, and 
some have stings in their tails — but I am forget- 
ting myself,” said the Crooked Little Man, 
“You are a little girl fairy and should know 



nothing of enemies and war. Please forgive 
me.” 

“Oh, don’t mention it, Sir; but I would like to 
know what those busy Ants are doing over there 
by the ant hills?” 


22 


BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 


“Ah! Those are the nurses taking care of 
the baby ants. They are very good nurses too. 
They have, you can see, on all their legs fine soft 
hairs and these they use to brush the babies. 
They shampoo and massage just like real 
people, and in their little homes they have 
nurseries for the babies and stables for their 
cows. ” 

“Cows,” exclaimed Myee. “Do Ants have 
cows?” 

“Surely they do,” said the little man. “Did 
you ever see the little green bugs on your 
mother’s rose bushes? She calls them Aphis, 
but they are the Ant’s cows, and they milk 
them by stroking them very carefully until the 
Aphis sheds through the two horns near the tail, 
the sweet juice she has drawn from the plant. 
Sometimes the Ant strokes the Aphis until she 
loosens her hold of the plant, and then he carries 
her away to his ant hill and keeps her in his 
stable, to be milked when necessary.” 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


23 


“My mother has told me that Ants are very 
wicked and keep slaves, ,, said Myee. 

“It is true, my dear, that they keep slaves; 
there are black ants and red ants. There is one 
kind of ant called the Amazon Ant, and they are 



A WARRIOR ANT 


the fighters. That is their business, and they 
must have someone to do their work and take 
care of their children while they are away from 
home, so toward evening, about sunset, they 
start out for their prey. They attack some ant 
hill of Black Ants. They surround it, and by 


24 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

their force of numbers and strength they kill the 
Ants on guard and rush into the different rooms 
in the ant-hill and carry away the little baby 
Ants and their eggs, not taking the grown-up 
Ants. They take the young Ants and eggs home 
to their nurses, who are slaves, having been taken 
in the same way. These nurses take the eggs 
and babies and care for them very tenderly, and 
when the eggs are hatched the baby Ants all 
play together and the little black slave Ants are 
brought up with the red children of the Amazons. 
The slave Ants take all the care of the nursery. 
They build and repair the houses, and it is they 
who go out and bring in the Aphis cows for their 
masters. They keep the keys of the house and 
lock the doors every night and open them every 
morning. ” 

“How do they talk?” asked Myee. 

“I wish that I might know,” said the little 
man; “they must talk a language we cannot hear 
or understand. They are wonderful little crea- 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


25 



SHE ASKED THEM IF THEY WOULD COME TO THE CONCERT AND 
FURNISH LIGHT FOR THE MUSICIANS 


26 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

tures, and I have learned much wisdom by my 
visits to their homes. ” 

“Well,” said Myee, “I must not stay any 
longer, although I would like to learn more about 
the Ants’ ways. Do you mind giving to the 
queen Ant, Mrs. Cricket’s invitation for this 
evening’s concert? You know her, you see, and 
I don’t.” 

“I will be delighted to do so,” said the 
Crooked Man, as he said good-bye. Myee, as 
she turned to fly away, said, “I am sure Mrs. 
Cricket would ask you if she knew you were in 
the woods.” “Don’t worry, little Fairy, I shall 
come to the Concert, for I know the Crickets very 
well. If only my crooked legs don’t carry me in 
some other direction, I never can tell.” 

“Oh, I am so sorry,” said Myee, “I wish I 
could give you wings like mine, these are only 
mine for to-night. ” 

Myee flew away to carry her invitations. She 
liked to fly through the tree-tops and see the 


27 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 





FIREFLIES 


2 8 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

pretty pictures the moonlight made on the leaves. 
As she was on her way to the Fireflies, she saw 
the loveliest yellow Butterfly, caught in the web 



of a Spider, who had spun her web from one tree 
to another, to catch any careless passer-by. 
Myee went to the Butterfly and said, “You 
pretty, pretty lady, I will save you >” and then 
she caught the Butterfly by both wings and drew 


THE INSECTS* SYMPHONY 


29 


her away just as Mrs. Spider came running out 
on the silken thread. Myee folded the hurt 
Butterfly in her own wings and flew on. It was 
easy to find the City of the Fireflies, for it was 
very brilliantly lighted. It was called the 
“ Sparkling City, ” and the twinkling lights shone 
far into the wood. A number of the young 
Fireflies gathered about Myee, and she looked 
very pretty indeed, lighted up by the soft lan- 
terns of the Flies. She asked them if they would 
come to the Concert and furnish lights for the 
musicians. They all twinkled “Yes” together. 
Some of the boys lighted Myee on her way into 
the woods. 

She must now go to the Hollow Tree where the 
Honey Bees swarmed. As she neared the tree, 
she saw a number of Bees standing about the 
opening in the Hollow Tree, and Myee was a bit 
frightened, for she thought they might think she 
was coming to take the honey they had worked so 
hard to make, but as she came up to the tree, she 


30 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

saw they were sentinels guarding the opening in 
the tree, and she told them at once what her 
errand was and they took her in to meet the 
Queen Bee, but first they had to break the wax 
door at the entrance. As they passed through 
the door, a number of Bees flew in with them, and 
Myee noticed some of them had little red tufts 
on their legs; some of these busy Bees were 
bringing wax to make the combs or rooms to hold 
the honey and some were bringing nectar gath- 
ered from the flowers in near by gardens. The 
little fellows with tufts on their legs had gathered 
pollen from the flowers, by poking their bodies 
into the pollen until they were all covered, and 
then they brushed the pollen together until it was 
made into a tiny ball. They never mix the 
pollen of one flower with another — these wise little 
workers. 

The Bees who carry the honey and the wax, 
carry their stores in their throats, and Myee saw 
some of the workers, who came in with her, open 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


31 


their throats and give their store of nectar to an 
old Bee, who carried it to the cells. He was too 
feeble to fly about and gather honey, but he 
could work in the cells, and so did each Busy Bee 
“improve each shining hour. ” 

Myeewas very fortunate to be taken in to see 
the Queen Bee, for very few people ever see her. 
She never works a day in her life. She is just a 
“Thing of beauty and a joy forever,” and is 
petted and admired by the other bees, who seem 
to be perfectly happy to work for her, but she 
couldn’t do much flying about, if she wanted to, 
for her wings are very short and would not carry 
her far. 

Myee bowed low before the queen and gave her 
message from Mrs. Cricket. 

“Thank you, pretty Fairy,” said the Queen, 
“I will be glad to send Mrs. Cricket honey from 
my comb, and I will also send some of my young 
men who are the best hummers to hum for the 
dancing. ” 


3 2 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

While the Queen was talking, Myee saw the 
Bees, who had come in with her, working very 
hard. Some were adding little lumps of wax to 
the comb that the comb builders were building 
on the ceiling of the house, others were busy 
bringing the nectar of flowers to store away in 
cells already made. Myee heard what sounded 
to her like the music of many jew’s-harps, 
but she soon saw that it was the Honey Bees 
singing at their work, and that is what they 
hummed: 

“ You know we are imported 
From Europe, far away, 

The nectar here is sweetest, 

Arid so we’re going to stay. 

Hum, Hum, Hum; Buzz, Buzz, Buzz!” 

Myee would like to have stayed longer, to watch 
the bees “improving every shining hour,” and to 
listen to their busy, buzzing music, but remember- 
ing the many places she had still to visit, she 


THE INSECTS* SYMPHONY 


33 

made her prettiest curtsey to the Queen and 
turned to go, but the Queen said, “One minute, 
little Fairy; do you know which honey Madam 
Cricket likes better — that made from the nectar 
from the clover blossoms, or the pollen of the 
bluebells ?” Myee tried to look wise and said, 
“I am quite sure, your Royal Highness, that 
Madam Cricket will be pleased with your taste 
in honey,” and lifting her wings as well as she 
could and not disturb the butterfly, Myee curt- 
sied again and backed her way out. The guards 
opened the wax door, and closed it carefully after 
she had flown out. 

Myee fluttered about, wondering what direc- 
tion to take to find the home of the Locust. 
She flew to a branch of a big locust tree and 
there she heard the well-known singing of a 
Locust just above her, and looking up, she saw 
Mr. Locust and two of his grandchildren whom 
he was teaching to sing, and this is what he 
sang: 

3 


34 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

“ Beware of ants and spiders, 

They are our enemies; 

Beware of ants and spiders 
Oh, listen now to me. 

“The spiders spin their webs, I say, 

To catch young locusts while at play, 

So listen to my words, I pray; 

Beware of ants and spiders night or day.” 

Myee listened to the words of the wise Grand- 
father Locust until the song was finished and 
then fluttered her left wing (under the right she 
had the pretty butterfly carefully wrapped) to 
attract the attention of Mr. Locust. The little 
Locusts saw her first and said, “Oh, Granddaddy, 
see the beautiful Fairy. ” As Mr. Locust turned 
to her, Myee said, “I’m very sorry to interrupt 
your singing-lessons, Sir, but I am in a great 
hurry. I am giving Mrs. Cricket’s invitations for 
a Concert she is giving to-night at nine o’clock, 
under the old willow tree, by the brook. She 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


35 


wanted me to ask you if you and your family 
would come and take part in the singing.” “I 
shall be very glad to help my cousin, Mrs. 
Cricket, in her entertainment. Who will fur- 
nish the lights?” “The Fireflies have promised 
to do that,” said Myee, and Mr. Locust seemed 
pleased. Myee said, “You will surely remember 
the hour and place, won’t you?” and lifting her 
wings, fluttered to the ground. While poised on 
her toes, ready to fly again, she heard a loud 
humming and stopped to see what it could be. 
Flying very swiftly above her was a beautiful 
little creature, all glistening in the moonlight 
in colors of green and ruby. She thought it 
must be another Fairy and she called to the rest- 
less little creature, “Do stop a minute, pretty 
Fairy, and tell me who you are and why you are 
in such a hurry.” A sweet voice replied, “I am 
not a Fairy, but just a ruby throated Humming 
Bird, and I must hurry to gather food from the 
flowers before they fade, for I have a little nest 


36 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

in a hedge not far away, and it is full of hungry 



MR. HUMMING BIRD 


little babies whom I must feed. Farewell, little 
Fairy. I would like to hum the time away with 
you, but you can see it is my duty not to linger 


THE INSECTS* SYMPHONY 


37 


on my way.” Away she flew, and Myee 
thought she had never seen so beautiful a 
thing. 

Now on her way back to the Willow Tree she 
remembered Madam Cricket had told her to look 
out for the Dragon Fly and to give him his invi- 
tation if she met him; there was no need of going 
to his home, for he was always on the wing. To 
tell the truth, Myee was very much afraid of 
meeting him, for a Dragon of any kind sounded 
scary. As she was flying along over a marshy 
place, where tall reeds grew, she heard a whirr, 
whirr, and she was so scared she dropped on a cat- 
o’-nine-tails near by, and there, right over her, 
was a queer looking fellow with a beautiful blue 
body, long silvery wings, and popping big round 
eyes. On his back he was carrying a Grand- 
daddy Longlegs, who looked very sad and ill ; 
he had lost several of his legs. Myee did not 
know that this was the dreaded Dragon Fly or 
she would have been more scared than she was. 


38 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

When she did get courage to say, “Who are you, 
and why are you carrying away poor Grand- 
daddy Longlegs?” the beautiful fellow was 
on the wing, and as he passed he called, “I 
am the great Dragon Fly.” “Oh,” called Myee, 
very much scared but remembering her duty, 
“ come to Mrs. Cricket’s party to-night at nine 
under the willow tree by the brook.” The Dra- 
gon Fly nodded and buzzed, and whirred away 
with his burden, and Myee thought he was very 
beautiful but very wicked to have taken Grand- 
daddy Longlegs prisoner, as she supposed he had 
done; for wasn’t he a Dragon Fly? Again Myee 
started on her way, but when she came to a path 
in the woods she did not know which way to 
turn, and she suddenly realized she was lost. 
She stepped on a moonbeam and flew away to 
the top of a tree to see if she could see any of 
her friends, but not a sound did she hear nor a 
friend did she see. She wanted to cry, but she 
thought Fairies never cried, for she remembered 



“I Am the Great Dragon Fly A 



% 


the insects’ symphony 



Mr. walking stick 


40 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

her Daddy once told her she must be “as happy 
as a Fairy . 99 

While wondering what to do, she looked about 
her; she thought she saw something moving on a 
dead branch near by, and soon a queer, awkward 
jointed creature came walking up to her and said, 
“What is your trouble, little Fairy? No one 
should be unhappy such a beautiful moonlight 
night. ” “But I am lost, and even if it is 
moonlight I can’t be happy until I find my friend 
Madam Cricket. It is late and I must be back 
at the willow tree by nine o’clock to help 
Madam Cricket at the Concert. ” 

“A concert! And am I not invited?” 

“If you will please tell me who you are, I will 
tell you, for I have the list,” Myee said, much 
embarrassed. 

“ Don’t you know me ? Look at my arms and 
legs and see if you don’t remember.” “Of 
course I know,” said Myee, “you are Mr. 
Walking Stick whose home is in the trees. I 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


41 



42 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

remember meeting you one time when I was 
climbing an old tree in the garden and I thought 
you were a dead twig — oh, excuse me please, I 
mean — a nice twig on the tree. ” 

The Walking Stick looked a trifle hurt and 
then smiled a kindly smile and said, “Well, 
little Fairy, if you will trust this ‘dead twig/ I 
will try to take you safely home to the willow 
tree. ” Myee had been looking carefully through 
her list of names, and looking up with a bright 
smile she said, “ Here is your name, and you must 
come to the Concert, Mr. Walking Stick. ” “I 
certainly will, my dear Fairy, and if you will wait 
just a minute, until I brush up a bit to make 
myself ready, I will go with you to the willow 
tree”; and, turning away, Mr. Walking Stick 
brushed his arms off with his legs and his legs 
with his arms, much in the same way that a cat 
takes her bath. His toilet quickly over he 
turned to Myee and crooking his long jointed arm 
he offered it to her. Myee took the crooked arm 


THE INSECTS' SYMPHONY 


43 


and they started on their way, but poor little 
Myee had to hop, skip, and jump to keep up, and 
finally she said, “ Would you mind very much if 
I were to use my wings, for it is hard to hop so 
much, you know/’ The Walking Stick threw 
up his jointed head and laughed and said, “Oh, 
you pretty Fairy, I know why you want to use 
your wings, they are just new. ” And Myee 
blushed very rosy pink and said, “Well, you 
know they are only mine for to-night.” “Yes, 
yes, I know,” said Mr. Walking Stick. “You 
flutter along on your wings and I will lead the 
way.” And off they went, a funny pair indeed. 


Chapter III 


“ In your company, oh, my crickets, I feel the throbbing of life 
which is the soul of our lump of clay.” — H. Fabre. 

I T seemed a long way to Myee, for she did not 
realize how far she had flown with her new 
wings, how many places she had visited, 
and how time flies. 

The Walking Stick was very kind and tried 
to make Myee forget the distance. When they 
came to the brook, they heard a sound of music, 
and Myee forgot all her fears and tired wings and 
cried, “Oh, that is the voice of the Crickets, 
we must be near. ” And sure enough they soon 
came to the willow tree under which the Cricket 
family were practicing their song for the evening. 
All were gathering about F ather Cricket, who was 
fiddling with all his best airs and graces. 

“You must remember the song is very quickly 

44 


1 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


45 


made up and the poetry may be a bit queer,” 
said Myee to Mr. Walking Stick when they came 
near to the musicians. 

Madam Cricket was standing near Mr.Cricket, 
with her head held high, trying hard to sing her 
song of welcome, making it up as she sang. As 
she was not a songstress nor a poetess the effort 
was great: 

“Welcome to our wood to-riight, 

The man in the moon is smiling bright.” 

So far, and no farther, could poor Madam 
Cricket go. “You try, Crick dear,” she said, 
almost in tears. 

Raising his wings and tuning them a bit while 
collecting his thoughts, Mr. Cricket began: 

“All you Ants and Bees and Beetles, 
Katydids and Darning Needles; 

Beetles — Needles ! 

Hum — Hum — 


46 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

“Oh I give it up!” sighed Mr. Cricket. 

All the little Crickets chirped up and finished the 
song: 

“Sing and dance, hey-diddle-diddle, 

While we Crickets play the fiddle.” 

“Well done! Well done! My dears,” said 
the mother and father in a tone of relief. 

Myee was quite out of breath when she and 
Mr. Walking Stick reached the Crickets. The 
whole family greeted her warmly and thanked 
Mr. Walking Stick for his kindness in bringing 
her to them. Madam Cricket took Fairy Myee 
aside to ask her about the invitations — who had 
accepted and who had declined. She was greatly 
pleased to know that her cousins the Locusts and 
Katydids would come to help and take part in 
the music for the evening and that the Fireflies 
would furnish the light and Mrs. Honey Bee the 
supper. 

Mr. Cricket called them to receive the Ants, 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


47 



GETTING READY FOR THE CONCERT 



48 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

who had come in full force, really quite a regi- 
ment, Amazons, slaves, and all. 

Mrs. Mason Spider soon came, covered with a 
gorgeous silken evening wrap of her own weaving. 
Mrs. Grasshopper came hopping along next, and 
then came the whole Locust family. They 
made such a clatter, one wondered what was the 
matter. 

Then another company of Red Ants came 
pouring in, in whole regiments, some of them on 
crutches, and some with bandaged heads, heroes 
of the recent battle. They ran about here and 
there stirring everyone up until they found a 
corner to their liking on the root of the old 
willow. Soon there was sound of distant music, 
it grew nearer, and nearer, and finally a whole 
swarm of Honey Bees arrived, each bearing 
a flower filled with honey, which they pre- 
sented to Madam Cricket. There was a 
group of mushrooms around the foot of the 
willow tree and on these Madam Cricket 


THE INSECTS* SYMPHONY 


49 

asked the Honey Bees to put the honey filled 
flowers. i 

While Myee sat watching the entrance of the 
interesting guests, she thought she heard a sob 
as if someone were quietly crying, and looking 



SOME OF THEM ON CRUTCHES AND SOME WITH BANDAGED HEADS 

about she saw in a corner of a leaf near by a 
magnificent brown and yellow butterfly with 
head bowed and wings folded. Myee’s warm 
heart always went out to anyone in trouble, and 
she went to the butterfly and touching his 
bowed head said, “Dear Mr. Butterfly, why do 
you cry? ,, Lifting a sad face to Myee, Mr. 
Butterfly said, “Beautiful Fairy, I am sad and 


50 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

lonely, I have lost the loveliest wife in the world. 
My Golden Butterfly.” Lifting her right wing 
Myee said, “Look, dear Sir, can this be your 
beautiful Butterfly ?” And out fluttered the 
wounded golden Butterfly. She was gathered 
at once to the wings of her mate, who fluttered a 
world of thanks to Myee as he flew away with his 
mate on his outspread wings. It was growing 
dark, and although the moon was full, the leaves 
of the willow tree would only let a few moon- 
beams through and all were glad when the Fire- 
flies came and lighted the woods all about with 
their bright lanterns. 

A family of mischievous Fleas were passing 
and were asked to come in and hear the music. 
They were so small it was hard to see them, but 
they made themselves felt by nipping at every- 
one who came near them, and then hiding quickly 
before they could be caught. 

Madam Cricket, when she thought everyone 
had come, tapped her antennae on a dead leaf 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


51 


and said, “My dear friends and relatives, I have 
asked you to come to-night, each of you to take 
your part in an entertainment for our little friend 



MR. CRAMPS 


Myee, who loves all the people of the woods and 
who is with us only for the night. Ah ! Here is 
our friend Mr. Blue-tail Fly. So glad to see you, 
Sir. I think I will call on you for the first song, 
and Gramps, our Bullfrog neighbor, has promised 


52 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

the music.” Bowing low, Madam Cricket sat 
down, and Gramps began, “Gramp, Gramp, 
Gramp, Grampety, Gramp, Gramp, Gramp,” 
and Mr. Blue-tail Fly cleared his throat and 
settled his wings, and then when all was still 
began to sing to Mr. Gramps’ accompaniment: 

THE SONG OF THE BLUE-TAILED FLY 

“There’s various kinds of curious things 
That travels around on insect wings; 

Some hatches in June, and some in July, 

But August brings dis Blue-tail Fly. 

I wish I had more to sing to-night, 

But I’ve eaten too much and my jacket is tight.” 

And this made all the company laugh. Mr. 
Blue-tail Fly flew away and sat beside a pretty 
Firefly on a watercress leaf by the brookside. 

Just as Madam Cricket got up to ask someone 
else to take part there was a whirr ! whirr ! and 
in flew Mr. Dragon Fly, and on his back he still 



Mr. Blue-Tail Fly Cleared His Throat and Settled His Wings, and 
When All Was Still, Began to Sing to 
Mr. Cramp's Accompaniment. 

































































































































. 









































































































the insects’ symphony 53 

carried old Granddaddy Longlegs. He landed 
at the side of Madam Cricket, and putting down 
his burden he said, “ Dear Madam Cricket, you 



“BUZZ, BUZZ. WHAT IS THE MATTER ? ” SAID A BUSY BEE 


are so kind to all deserving insects, won’t you do 
something for this poor old man?” 

“Buzz, buzz,” said a busy Bee, “What is the 
matter, has he lost some legs?” Yes, said 


54 BUGS and wings and other things 
Mr. Dragon Fly. “When I found him he was in 
the hands of a cruel little boy, who was holding 
him by one leg and then by another and asking 
him such a silly question, ‘Granddaddy, Grand- 
daddy, tell me where are the cows/ just as if poor 
old Granddaddy knew where his cows were. 
One leg after another came off in his efforts to be 
free. I got there just in time to whirr around 
that boy’s face until he dropped Granddaddy. 
I then picked him up quickly and carried him 
away, and here I am. I have done all I know 
how to do in first aid to the injured, but I have 
no legs to give him.” 

Madam Cricket had taken Granddaddy from 
Mr. Dragon Fly and was carefully looking over 
his wounds. “There is a family of Crane Flies 
living on the edge of the wood,” she said, “and 
they are closely related to our Granddaddy here 
and I know will be willing to give him a leg to 
help out. Will you fly over there, Dragon, and 
tell them poor Granddaddy’s plight. By the way, 





And They Then Put Him to Sleep on a Soft Bed of Moss. 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


55 


you must take one of the Saw Flies with you 
to take off the leg. Bring it back as quickly as 
you can, and I know with the wax from our 
Honey Bees we can bandage the leg on, and poor 
Mr. Granddaddy can then get about, although 
he will probably have to walk on crutches the 
rest of his days/’ 

Off flew the Dragon Fly on his surgical errand, 
and it was not long before he came whirring back 
with a hairlike leg which Madam Cricket, with 
the aid of the Honey Bees, attached to Grand- 
daddy, and they then put him to sleep on a soft 
bed of moss, and no one seemed to have a doubt 
but he was well cared for. 

The Concert began again, the Katydids, 
Locusts, and Crickets sang a wonderful medley 
which to Myee seemed pretty loud, but each 
voice was in tune and the audience seemed to 
enjoy it. After this, little Miss Tree Hopper 
came out and a smile went around the audience, 
for she is such a funny looking little bug girl. 


56 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

Her face is so queer and old and her body so 
fat, but she can sing, and sing she did, until her 
queer fat throat looked as if it would burst. 
When her song was finished there was a long buzz 
of relief from the insects in the tree and on the 
ground. 

The next to' appear was a family of House 
Flies, and this is the chorus of the song they 
buzzed : 

“I’m but a busy, buzzing house fly. 

To make the most of life I try; 

A fly’s life is short I swear, 

And that of a house fly is full of care; 

Men swat us here, they swat us there, 

Our nests are swept clean, 

Our cupboards laid bare, 

We’re never wanted anywhere.” 

“That is very true,” sighed Myee, sorry for the 
first time for the miserable House Flies. No one 
else seemed to think they were to be pitied, and 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


57 


the Dragon Fly whispered to Myee, “They are 
no use, anyway.” At which Myee jumped, for 
she could not get over the feeling that he was a 
Dragon after all, in spite of his kindness to 
Granddaddy Longlegs. “His eyes are so big, 



and he looks so fierce,” confided Myee to the 
Walking Stick. 

When the different insect guests had taken 
their parts in the entertainment, there was a few 
minutes’ rest for supper, which all enjoyed, and 
then Madam Cricket said, “We are to have a 
great treat to-night, my friends. Miss Thrush 


58 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

has come to sing in the tree overhead for the 
dance of the Fairies. At which a sweet note 
sounded above them, and down the moonbeams 
came a group of beautiful Fairies. They came 



THE THRUSH SINGS 


to Myee and took her with them to dance. As 
the sweet notes of the Thrush came clearer and 
clearer, the Fairies danced and danced, making 
the moonbeams dance with them. Myee was 
beside herself with delight. On and on the 


THE INSECTS’ SYMPHONY 


59 


sweet voice sang, on and on the little feet danced 
until Myee sank on the mossy bank so tired she 
fell sound asleep. 

The voice of the songstress grew fainter and 
fainter as she flew away to her mate. The 
Fairies gathered about the sleeping Myee. The 
insects went to their homes in the ground and 
the trees. All was hushed and still. The 
Fairies waved their hands to the Night Wind, and 
he came softly down and lifted little Myee on his 
soft billowy wings and carried her away home, 
while the Fairies flew by her side. Over the 
tree-tops and over the sleeping flowers in the 
garden they flew until they came to the open 
window of Myee’s room. In they flew, and on 
the little white bed they laid the sleeping little 
girl, and with a wand they touched her wings, 
and Lo! she was a big girl again. Out the win- 
dow the Night Wind and the Fairies flew, and 
Myee snuggling in her pillow said, “ Please 
Mamma, take care of my wings. 99 





















/ 































THE LOCUST’S SONG 


6l 


























THE LOCUST’S SONG 


“The infinitesimal telling its joys makes me forget the pageant of 
the stars." — H. Fabre. 


WHIRR — Twhirr — Twhirr — Buzz-z-z” 



sang Mr. Locust as he sat on a leaf of 
an old locust tree in the beautiful gar- 


den of Mount Vernon on the Potomac River. 

Mr. Locust was singing his song over and over 
again, having a good time all by himself. He was 
very happy until an ant came bustling along 
under the tree and looking up said: 

“ Please stop that noise up there.” 

Mr. Locust stopped long enough to nibble on 
a tender bit of a leaf, and then began singing 
again. 

“Twhirr — Twhirr — Twhirr — Buzz-z-z. ” 

A number of ants came out from the ant hill 
near by, and again one said: 


64 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

“You must stop that noise up there. It is 
worse than the gardener’s mowing machine. It 
disturbs us very much, our little Antlets cannot 
sleep, and you make our Queen very nervous. ” 
Still Mr. Locust sang on with his head high in 
the air. 

The ants hurried back to the hill, and when 
they came again they brought their army of 
slaves. They halted under the tree while one 
ran up the tree trunk and out on the branch 
where Mr. Locust was merrily singing his song. 
Going close to him he said, “I am giving you fair 
warning, unless you stop this croaking at once, 
our army, waiting below, will take you prisoner. ” 
To which Mr. Locust, undisturbed by the 
threat, replied, “Croaking, did you say? Do 
you know that my ancestors have sung in this 
garden at Mount Vernon for six or eight genera- 
tions of locusts ? Even Madam Washington and 
Nellie Custis listened to our songs, as they 
walked along these paths, and now you, a little 

















































































































Mg ; ® f 








. • 


. 
































Up the Tree Trunk They Scurried and in the Name oe their Queen 
They Took Poor Mrs. Locust Prisoner. 



THE LOCUST’S SONG 


65 


Amazon ant, come and call my song a croak. ” 
And Mr. Locust raised his head and again began 
to “Twhirr — Twhirr — T whirr — Bu zz*z-z,” but 
was stopped instantly by a quick — “Stop, I 
say,” from the ant near him and those below 
him. He looked very sad. 

Was ancestry to count for nothing with these 
restless, domineering little creatures about him? 
To have one’s ancestry and voice both treated so 
sniffingly by a little ant was hard indeed to bear, 
and he sat lost in thought for some time, but 
habit was strong, and, forgetting ants and an- 
cestors, he soon was twhirring and buzzing again 
at his song. This was too much for the ants, and 
down the one ant ran, and gave his order to the 
slaves ; up the tree trunk they scurried, and in the 
name of their queen they took poor Mr. Locust 
prisoner and carried him, still bravely singing, to 
the ant hill where the queen decided there was no 
other way to stop his croaking but to bury him. 
So a deep hole was dug under the locust tree. 


66 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

and singing his “swan song” poor Mr. Locust 
was buried down deep in the ground, and the 
ants went busily on at their work. Day after 
day and year after year went by. The ants 
worked and played and fought their battles. 

Seventeen years had passed since the morn- 
ing when the ants captured and buried Mr. 
Locust. 

Early one morning the black ants came run- 
ning to the Queen in great excitement, saying, 
“There has been an earthquake and there is a 
great crack before the hill.” At the Queen's 
orders the ants hurriedly gathered sand and filled 
the crack, and quiet was once more restored. 
The next morning the ants were wakened by a 
quaking sensation, and soon the song of a locust 
burst upon their astonished ears, and through the 
crack that came to their door they saw the head 
of a locust. The ants were too astonished to 
act or speak for a minute. The locust drew his 


THE LOCUST’S SONG 67 

whole body from the ground and stood before 
them a full grown insect. 

“ Where — where did you come from? Where 
have you been all this time?” gasped one ant 
after another. 

The locust shook himself and in so doing shed 



THE ANTS WERE TOO ASTONISHED TO ACT OR SPEAK FOR A MINUTE 


his last scale, then feeling very important over 
the sensation he was creating, he said, 

“Seventeen years ago to-day my father was 
alive and singing — ” “Croaking, croaking,” 
interrupted the ants. “Singing,” went on the 
young locust, “in his home on the locust tree 
when you or your ancestors interrupted his song, 


68 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

and buried him under this tree. At that time 
he said his son should come in seventeen years 
to avenge his death, and here I am, a full grown 
seventeen year locust. Where are the ants or 
their descendants who buried my dear father 
alive ?” 

The ants were angry and indignant and started 
to make quick work of this impudent young Mr. 
Locust, but the Queen ant clapped her antennae 
together and quieting the ants said, 

“Let us consider, young Mr. Locust. This is 
our home under the locust tree, and we are a 
busy people and need our rest. We must not 
be disturbed when sleeping. The croaking of a 
locust is very annoying to the ears of our ants, 
and especially to our little antlets. We feel you 
too must die. ” 

“Oh, good and great Queen, I beg for a little 
time to live, ” said the young locust, very much 
scared. “ I have seen nothing of life, you know. 
To spend seventeen years underground before 


THE LOCUST’S SONG 69 

you can come out finished, may be very develop- 
ing, but not very jolly for a young Locust like 
myself. 

4 4 1 did not know there were so many of you, 
and I did not know our music could worry any- 
one. I am very sorry and am willing to make up 
for my father’s mistake by keeping my music to 
myself — hard though it may be. Only let me see 
the garden where my ancestors have lived in 
centuries past. Just let me taste one drop of 
dew from the clover, one nibble from the fresh 
young cabbage in the kitchen garden of which 
my mother told me. Just one little taste of life 
I beg.” 

Another consultation was held, and then the 
Queen turned to the young Locust who stood on 
the edge of the crack waiting in tense excitement 
the verdict. 

Ah! “To be or not to be;” 

That was his question, 


70 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

Whether to endure the verdict 
Of outrageous little ants 
Or take arms against them, 

And perhaps so end them, 

Or to die; to sleep; 

Perchance to only dream 

Of dewy fields and crisp green meadows. 

But before he reached his decision the Queen 
stood out before him and said: 

“We have decided you shall live one day on 
trial and under these conditions: If you will 
promise not to croak or sing (if you will call it 
singing) your song within hearing distance of our 
ant hill, and that you shall do some good deed 
before the day is done and report to me to- 
night, then I will say if you shall live or die.” 

Gratefully Mr. Locust thanked the Ants and 
bowing low to the Queen, said: 

“Most Gracious and Just Majesty, I thank 
you for one day at least of life. I will go forth 


THE LOCUST’S SONG 


7 1 


with the desire to do good deeds, and I promise 
you shall not hear my song. ” 

Jumping over the crack, Mr. Locust went 
hopping into the garden. It was early morning 
and the flowers in the garden were wet and 
sparkling with dew. The young Locust, full of 
the enthusiasm of youth and the joy of a new 
life, sipped dew from every flower until he was too 
full to fly and sank upon a leaf of the box border 
to rest. 

It was while resting there, that, looking about 
him, he saw through an opening in the hedge 
what he knew must be the kitchen garden, and 
lo! right before him were the beautiful round 
green balls of cabbage of Locust history so well 
described by his mother. 

Forgetting he was tired, up Mr. Locust hopped 
and over the hedge he flew and lighted on a bright 
green cabbage leaf, he nipped a bit to try. 

“O how sweet life is,” said he, and ate and ate 
until the cabbage looked like moth-eaten feathers, 


72 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

and Mr. Locust looked too fat to hop; but his 
time was short and he wanted to see and eat 



AND LIGHTING ON A BIG GREEN CABBAGE LEAF 


all he possibly could before his day was done. 

So off he flew over hedge and through the 
meadow until he came to a little walled-in garden. 
Being very curious he hopped up on the wall, and 
behold! there before him was a garden to make 


THE LOCUST’S SONG 


73 


any Locust glad to be alive even for one day. 
Row after row of the most beautiful hearts of 
lettuce, bed after bed of cabbage, spinach and 
chard, and no one there to scare one away. So 
over the wall and into the garden flew Mr. Locust 
and seated himself on a leaf of early spinach, 
when, to his surprise, he found he was not alone 
after all, for stooping over a bed near by was a 
little old woman with one hand resting on a staff, 
while with the other she was carefully taking the 
weeds from the beds. Mr. Locust sat very 
still and pulled a leaf over his head so that he 
might not be seen. Soon he heard the little old 
woman talking to herself, say: 

“Though I am very lame and old and though 
I have been very poor and alone since my good 
Michael died, I can raise as good vegetables as 
any of my neighbors, and these fine heads of 
lettuce and cabbage should bring me money 
enough to keep me warm this winter if only the 
terrible enemy the seventeen-year locusts do not 


74 BUGS and wings and other things 

come again, ” and resting on her staff she counted 
on her work-worn fingers. 

“Yes, it is seventeen years since the locusts 
came and filled my garden and ate everything I 
had worked so hard to make grow and left me 
cold and hungry all that bitter winter. Can it 
be they will come again this year? ,, Mr. Lo- 
cust saw tears in the old woman’s eyes. 

In his desire to comfort her whose trouble 
seemed much worse than his own, young Mr. 
Locust quite forgot himself and twhirred un- 
consciously, and the old woman started in 
terror. 

“ What is that sound ? Can it be the twhirring 
of the locusts I heard seventeen years ago to- 
day? Ah, no, it must not be!” and the old wo- 
man shivered and shook. 

Mr. Locust longed to tell her that he was only 
out to do good deeds that day, but when he saw 
how she trembled at the sound of his voice he 
hopped away under the leaves and hid until the 


the locust’s song 75 

old woman had finished her work and had hob- 
bled away into the house. 

A very sober-minded young man was young 
Mr. Locust when he came out from hiding and 
flew out of the garden determined to put tempta- 
tion behind him. As he was flying along on his 
way to Mount Vernon he heard the familiar buz- 
zing sound of many locusts on the wing, and be- 
fore he had gone far from the old woman’s garden 
he looked up and there were hundreds and hun- 
dreds of locusts alighting on the grass before him. 

“Oh, my Uncles, Aunts, and Cousins, where 
have you come from and where are you going in 
such a hurry?” asked Mr. Locust as his relatives 
and friends gathered around him. 

“We have come from Arlington House, not far 
away, and we are looking for the garden just 
before us which, in our family history of seven- 
teen years ago, is said to have been full of the 
best green vegetables of quality on the banks 
of the Potomac.” 


76 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

“Halt, then, my relatives and friends, and 
turn away, for I have just come from that garden, 
and not a leaf would I touch, nor must you, for 
that garden belongs to a poor old woman all 
alone in the world and dependent upon those 
very vegetables from her garden for her winter 
warmth and comfort. Our ancestors seventeen 
years ago ate her garden bare and brought great 
suffering upon her, so go back and finish your 
evening meal in the fields or by the roadside, 
and so by this good deed of sacrifice make up for 
the wrong done to this poor woman by our 
ancestors. ” 

The army of locusts rose and obedient to the 
command of their serious young relative flew 
away to other fields, and our young locust went 
back to Mount Vernon through the flowers and 
boxwood until he came to the ant hill under the 
locust tree. He longed to sing a song of grati- 
tude to the world for giving him such a happy 
day, but he knew he was too near the ant hill, 


THE LOCUST’S SONG 


77 

and so he kept still and quietly went to the door 
of the hill and knocked, which opened ; he entered 
and bowing low before the Queen Ant told of 
his day and of the poor old woman and her 
garden and the turning away of his relatives and 
friends from the garden. The Queen looked at 
him very sweetly and said, “You don’t seem to, 
realize, young man, that you have done a deed so 
good that you deserve a long life. Go forth into 
the garden and live and sing to your heart’s 
content, and may you live to do many more 
kind deeds.” 















ARISTOCRATIC WORMS 


79 



ARISTOCRATIC WORMS 


T HE garden at Mount Vernon was fresh and 
fragrant after a soft summer shower. 

It was late in the afternoon of a warm 
August day. Along the box-bordered paths — 
where in generations past Madam Martha and 
Gen. George Washington strolled with their 
friends — now crawled a colony of Angle Worms 
of all sizes. Two worms much larger and more 
important looking than the rest separated them- 
selves from the others and rested together on 
some broad wet leaves that had fallen from the 
linden trees overhead. 

You may not be overfond of worms, but when 
you have heard the story of these two Angle 
Worms, descended from the aristocracy of Eng- 
lish and French Gardens, you will, I am sure, 

6 8l 


82 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

hereafter feel an interest in these creatures of the 
earth and turn aside lest you bruise one under 
foot. 



The Worm of French ancestry nodded her 
head gracefully as a French Worm would, and 
said to the big Worm at her side, “Tell me, my 
friend, how did you come here? You do not 
carry yourself like the other worms of our garden. 
You crawl with great dignity and your air is 
superior to those about you. Why is it?” 


ARISTOCRATIC WORMS 83 

The English Worm slowly drew himself up — 
half way up — his long length — and raising his 
proud head said, “I will tell you the history of 
my family as it has been handed down to me from 
generation to generation, and you shall then 
judge for yourself if I have not the right to carry 
myself with dignity. 

“ My Ancestress was one of a large family of 
Angle Worms that lived in a beautiful garden of 
Surrey, England, owned and cared for by Mis- 
tress Priscilla Westwood. 

“ The young Mistress of the Garden had a way 
of coming out in early morning bringing a very 
disagreeable long spade, such, I fancy you know, 
as we suffer from here in our gardener’s hands 
at times. The Earth Worms then, as now, 
squirmed with fear, lest they would be cut in 
pieces. That process is supposed to create a 
larger family, of course, but it isn’t pleasant to be 
sliced into sisters and brothers by a sharp spade. 
Is it?” 


84 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

The French Worm shook her head sym- 
pathetically, and the English Worm continued, 
“My Ancestress said it was necessary for Miss 
Priscilla to spade the ground to keep the earth 
they lived in fresh and light. 

“ In the evening the Mistress, in a gentler mood, 
carried no tools of torture but strolled through 
the Garden, enjoying her flowers' sweet fragrance. 
She always stepped carefully lest she hurt any 
of her garden family, no matter how small. 

“ One beautiful evening, late in the summer of 
1620, my Ancestress was crawling with her 
friends in the moist sod around the old Sun Dial 
in the garden, when Mistress Priscilla came down 
the path looking, my Ancestress said, very 
beautiful, dressed in white, a deep pink rose in 
her golden hair, and another in her belt. In her 
hand she carried a broad hat trimmed with a 
wreath of roses and blue ribbons that matched 
the color of her eyes. She wandered through the 
paths between the box-bordered rosebeds, and 


ARISTOCRATIC WORMS 85 

when she sat in the rose-covered arbor she 
looked like a beautiful rose herself. The whole 
garden was alive to her beauty. 

“ Soon, however, the quiet of the garden was 
broken by the quick, heavy footsteps of a man. 
The worms crawled back into their earth hole 
until the big man passed, but curiosity soon 
brought them out again, for they must know 
everything of interest to their Mistress. The 
Garden people had seen the man before and had 
often heard him declare his love for their beauti- 
ful Mistress, but before, he had always gone out 
of the garden alone. 

44 This evening the young man walked with his 
head high, with the air of a king coming for his 
queen. All the ears and eyes of the Garden 
were open to know the errand of this disturber 
of their peace. The man lost no time in looking 
about the garden, but went straight to the ar- 
bor, where he found the loveliest flower of all; he 
took Mistress Priscilla’s hands and said — not 


86 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

waiting to sit down — ‘Priscilla, the Mayflower 
sails for the New World day after to-morrow and 
I must go as I have promised; I cannot go with- 
out you. Say you will go with me as my bride. 
There we will make a new home; a new garden, 
just like this one you love. There are great 
things to be done in this New England to which 
we are sailing, over the sea. The New World 
needs such women as you, and, oh, Priscilla! / 
need you; say you will come with me — say yesP 

“ No ears in the garden heard the answer, for 
just then a Nightingale came from its nest in the 
hedge and perching on the arbor sang a sweet 
love-song to its mate. The man did not go 
alone out of the garden that night. Mistress 
Priscilla was at his side and hand-in-hand to- 
gether they walked in the moonlight, down the 
garden path to the house. The Man-in-the- 
Moon looked wise and the little stars winkled 
and twinkled as if with joy. 

“ The next morning, bright and early, into the 


ARISTOCRATIC WORMS 


87 


.garden came Mistress Priscilla with basket and 

i° 

^ade. Hurriedly she took up a few roots of her 

""1st loved plants. Rose Champion — Lavender 
J Rosemary — Thyme and Rue — pretty Eng- 

•/epo'4. 

Violets — Canterbury Bells — Broom and 

01 }sn 

e of the hardiest roses, a root of the sturdy 
lish Thrift, and more, I am sure, were packed 

^ipasocl 

pjBaq .he big basket. Tearfully Mistress Priscilla 

}nq 

* l sWt through her garden saying good-by to the 

- 

qu v'tty blossoms. Lovingly she touched the 

•jpaa 

and Holly — tall trees — many of them ages 

OJafe 

-i!M;der than the Mistress herself. In this garden 

°Jnost of the days of Priscilla’s life had been spent, 

• and she dearly loved it all, but the handsome, 
earnest young lover with his call to the New 
World had won her heart, and she must go. 
With a sigh and last farewell she picked up her 
basket and went from the garden, and that, my 
friend, is the way my ancestors were transplanted 
from the Old to the New World — in the earth in 
Mistress Priscilla’s basket on board the May - 


88 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

flower. My Ancestress said it was a long and 
weary journey and there was no room to crawl 
about; they were badly cramped in the basket, 
but Mistress Priscilla and the new Master were 
very kind and gave them water every day to 
drink. One day they heard shouts, ‘Land 
ahead! America, America V It was not long 
before the basket and worms, with all the rest, 
were landed on a great rock on the shores of 
New England, and this they called Plymouth 
Rock. 

“The home to which Mistress Priscilla was 
taken by her new husband was made of logs and 
had but two rooms; these had great open fire- 
places in which were burned logs cut from the 
great trees of the forest on the edge of which the 
house stood. Mistress Priscilla, my Ancestress 
said, lost no time in beginning her garden. With 
the help of her husband she laid out paths 
planned from the old garden in Surrey. The 
deep green box could not endure the cold New 


ARISTOCRATIC WORMS 89 

England climate, and one leaf after another 
withered and fell, but the sturdy Rose Cham- 
pion, in whose roots my ancestors lived, grew 



IT WAS NOT LONG BEFORE THE BASKET AND WORMS WITH ALL 
THE REST WERE LANDED ON A BIG ROCK 


and spread and made a mass of color in one 
corner to the Mistress’s delight. She always 
lingered long before that bed of soft gray velvety 
leaves and deep rose blossoms looking up so 
saucily at her. 


90 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

f< The English Thrift made a big effort to take 
the place of the Box in the border and spread its 
tiny roots right and left until, before the first 
summer was over, there was a long line of soft 
green with tufts of pink. 

“The pretty English Violets made a bed of 
blue and shed their sweet fragrance through the 
garden to make their Mistress glad. 

“ My Ancestress said that the worms tried, as 
all worms of good blood would, to adapt them- 
selves to the new life, but the earth was hard and 
rough, and the sod needed hundreds of years of 
care to make it a soft carpet like the sod of Old 
England. Everything was wild, shockingly 
wild, you know; coarse weeds would creep in 
under the hedge and refuse to be sent out, and 
prickly things called Thistles came and wanted 
to stay, to the dismay of the Mistress. 

“At night there were such alarming sounds. 
The Master said it was the howling of wolves in 
the forest. 





























































V 




















































- 










Queer Looking Men Called Indians Sometimes Crept Through 

the Garden. 


ARISTOCRATIC WORMS 


91 


“ Queer looking men called Indians sometimes 
crept through the garden, and at night it was very 
unpleasant. They scared even the native worms, 
and much more the worms from old England, 
who had never seen anything outside their own 
garden. The skin of these men was dark and red, 
and their faces were painted with bright red 
paint, their hair was black as night, and very 
straight and long. They wore feathers in their 
hair and queer leather clothes and soft shoes 
called moccasins that made no noise. In their 
belt they wore an awful looking thing they called 
a tomahawk, and in their hands they carried long 
bows and arrows. The Indians, my Ancestress 
said, did not like the white men who came over 
the Great Water and took their land, giving little 
in return. 

“ Mistress Priscilla did not come into the garden 
the days that the Master had to go away on 
business, but stayed in the house with the doors 
and windows bolted and the Master’s great dog 


92 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

by her side. These were lonely days in the 
garden. 

“ One night, just after sunset, a number of the 
worms of my ancestors’ family were out for a 
crawl in the garden. My Ancestress said she 
was curled under the Rose Champion, where she 
felt most at home. She had been watching for 
the return of her Master, for she knew her Mis- 
tress would have no rest until he came. Just as 
she heard his footsteps at the garden gate — the 
entrance to the house was through the garden — 
she felt some danger was near as out from the 
hedge crept a fierce looking Indian in all his war 
paint and feathers. My Ancestress crawled and 
wriggled until she got near enough to the garden 
path to warn the members of her family who were 
near the Indian. At that instant the Indian 
drew his bow, with the arrow pointed at the 
Master’s heart. ‘Oh, Mistress Priscilla, why 
don’t you come?’ cried the worms in agony, but 
she was not needed, for the brave worms in the 


ARISTOCRATIC WORMS 93 

path crawled quickly under the heels and toes of 
the Indian as he stepped back to take his aim and 
he slipped on their round bodies and the arrow 
lost its force and dropped in the garden path, 
only a warning to the Master. 

“The Indian ran swiftly and silently away as 
he came, and the Master picked up the poisoned 
arrow and went on into the house never knowing 
of the lives sacrificed to save his own, but 
Mistress Priscilla, when she came into the garden 
the next morning, found the place where the 
Indian stood and she knew at once who had made 
the sacrifice and her kind heart was grateful. 
She carefully lifted the bodies of the crushed 
worms and buried them under the leaves of the 
Rose Champion. As time went on there were 
many little pattering feet in the garden, but 
Mistress Priscilla always bdde the children to be 
careful, lest they step on any worm in the path. 

“ When the children were grown and married, 
they brought their children and grandchildren 


94 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

back to the garden and showed them the spot 
where my ancestors saved the life of their great- 
grandfather, so our story was handed down. 
As time went on the dear Mistress grew too old to 
care for the flowers she loved, but a great-grand- 
daughter, Priscilla the third, was very like the 
Mistress Priscilla of the Surrey Garden, and she 
took the same loving care of all the flowers her 
great-grandmother brought from her home so 
far away. 

“ One day a dashing young officer of General 
Washington’s staff came and took our young 
Mistress Priscilla away, very much as her 
great-grandfather had carried away the first 
Priscilla, but we were not to be left behind, for 
our young Mistress Priscilla, as her great-grand- 
mother had done before her, carried with her 
to her new home in Virginia, roots of the Rose 
Champion her great-grandmother loved, and in 
those roots I was curled with my wife and chil- 
dren, and that, dear friend, is how I came to be 


ARISTOCRATIC WORMS 


95 



AN ARISTOCRATIC WORM. 


96 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

your neighbor, for my home is now in the Rose 
Champion roots in the garden on the other side 
of the big hedge.” 

The French Worm moved sympathetically 
closer to the English Worm and said after a 
pause, “ A most interesting story dear Sir, and I 
can perfectly understand your pride of ancestry. 
My story is not unlike yours. The days of our 
ancestors must have been full of interest. Such 
chivalry! Such dash! My Ancestor said no 
venture was too great for a lord to dare for his 
lady. 

“ The history of my family in this country is 
not so old as yours. My Ancestor and his family 
came over in the bulbs of Lilies of France brought 
by the beautiful Marquise of Montfermeil from 
the garden of her Chateau, near Paris, when she 
fled from France, to avoid the guillotine, when 
all royal heads were in danger. In Albany, 
New York State, on the banks of the Hudson 
River she settled. There she made a garden, 


ARISTOCRATIC WORMS 97 

as nearly as possible like the one at Montfermeil. 
She did not have the hardships to endure that 
your English Mistress had, her garden soil had 
been worked for many years, but the garden had 
been formed and planted by a Hollander, a 
Dutch Patroon, and the form was that of the 
Dutch. It was full of Tulips and Hyacinths, 
beautiful in the spring, but bare when the blos- 
soms were gone. So Madame the Marquise 
reformed and replanted until the American gar- 
den surrounded by high plastered walls looked 
as if it had been lifted from Montfermeil and 
dropped on the banks of the Hudson. 

“ Madame the Marquise spent most of her 
days in the garden; there she received her guests, 
there she served her tea and chamomile and cakes. 

“ One afternoon my Ancestor and his friends 
were crawling about on the path when they 
heard voices and footsteps. They crawled into 
the sod and lifting their heads from the grass 
they saw their Madame walking through the 


98 BUGS AND WINGS AND OTHER THINGS 

garden and with her were two men, one in the 
uniform of France and the other, a white-haired 
man, wearing the uniform of the United States 
Army. They spoke in French, but that, of course, 
my ancestors understood, as they never heard 
another language spoken; only at times, the 
sputtering of the old Dutch gardener at his work. 
The worms were glad to be out of the path, for the 
rattling spurs on the boots of the men made the 
pebbles fly from their feet. I wonder, my friend, 
if you have guessed who the two distinguished of- 
ficers were ? None other than General Lafayette 
and General Washington!” As the French 
Worm spoke these great names she bowed her 
head, and the English Worm did also. 

The French Worm continued, “As Madame, 
the Marquise, took them through her garden she 
showed them with great pride the bed of beauti- 
ful Lilies she had brought from France. General 
Lafayette took off his hat and saluted the lovely, 
graceful blossoms, nodding on their long stems. 


ARISTOCRATIC WORMS 99 

Then he turned to Madame and said, ‘In the 
garden at Mount Vernon, Madam Washington 
loves to work among her flowers, but I am sure 
she has none so beautiful as these Lilies of our 
France. It would give me great pleasure, dear 
Friend, if you will send her some bulbs from your 
garden.' The General had not finished speak- 
ing before Madame the Marquise had summoned 
the gardener. The bulbs were taken up and 
carefully packed in General Washington's saddle- 
bags, and that is how we came to live in this 
beautiful garden on the banks of the Potomac.'’ 

“So, humble though we may be," said the 
English Worm, “we have an ancestry many a 
bigger worm would envy. " 

“Hark!" said a friend crawling by, “I hear 
an enemy. Hide your heads. Cock Robin 
comes this way." 











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